


When The Sunlight Paint Us Gold

by Janusa



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Bad Flirting, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Fluff, Genderfluid Yuri Plisetsky, Growing Up Together, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Mutual Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, ages are slightly different, rinkmates to friends to lovers, yuurio brotp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 23:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16458995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janusa/pseuds/Janusa
Summary: Yuuri’s life hasn’t been exactly what you would call ‘remarkable’. However, there are a few moments of his life that Yuuri thinks are worth to mention.Between these moments are; when he finally mastered thearabesquewithout losing his balance, the time Mari took him to the local cinema with her first paycheck from her summer job, or when he watched Viktor Nikiforov skate for the first time. And of course, when Yakov Feltsman offered him to be his coach.Yuuri Katsuki is 17 when he moves to Russia to train under Yakov Feltsman. He basically has to start his life all over again; a new school, a new rink, a new coach, a new language and new people. Nothing is like expects, especially not his idol.





	1. The Same

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know much about figure skating and searching only helps until a certain point so I will be kinda vague in that aspect.  
> My first YOI long fic, and I'm excited!  
> This chapter is short and more like an introduction, next will be longer.

Yakov is outside of the ice rink. He watches his students and makes sure they do what they have to do and they don’t what they must _not._

“No quadruple salchow, Yuri!” he screams as soon as soon as Yuri finishes warming up. The boy has been practicing that jump the last couple of days, even when Yakov explicitly forbade him to do it.

Yakov can practically hear Yuri’s scoff as he goes practice on his spins.

It’s like the boy thinks Yakov is trying to annoy him instead of preventing him from destroying his still-developing knees.

There’s a familiar echo of sharp heels on the tiles behind him that soon comes to a halt.

“When does the boy arrive?” asks Lilia, coming to stand next to him, her expression is severe, as always. She doesn’t bother with formalities such as _good morning_ , they are a waste of time for her.

“Tomorrow.”

Lilia nods sharply. “But why the sudden decision, Yakov? You don’t lack pupils.”

 _That_ is a very good question. He turns in Vitya’s direction and lets out a sigh.

“He is nineteen and already a legend.” Yakov says as he starts walking around the rink, checking the practice of each one of them. He takes a moment to scold Mila and Georgi, who are bickering about something he doesn’t nor wants to know. Then, he gives his attention back to Lilia. “I’ve seen it before; they lose inspiration, they lose motivation. Some earlier than others. He’s too young for that.”

Vitya is in one extreme of the rink, combining jumps and spins, trying different step sequences for the choreographies of his next programs.

“You care for him.” Lilia crosses her hands in front of her body and arches an eyebrow. “You know I don’t do charity, Yakov.”

“And I don’t take lost cases.” Yakov turns his head to give Lilia a serious look. “I also see real potential in Yuuri Katsuki, the potential for greatness.”

Lilia stares at Yakov, evaluating him and purses her lips.

“We will see.”

 

 

Viktor has heard about the new skater in their rink. The Japanese Yuuri.

He can’t understand Yakov’s decisions and he usually doesn’t care about them either but this time is different. Yakov already has Georgi, Mila, Yuri and him to coach, another student seems too much and frankly, not worth the trouble.

He doesn’t know much about Katsuki and that’s because of one thing; Viktor doesn’t care about those who don’t represent a real challenge.

He focuses on doing his thing, watches out for the competency —because he may be confident but he’s not arrogant, not yet at least.

Jealousy is not uncommon in ice skating as in any other sport, and Viktor is nineteen and the reigning champion, as well as incredibly blunt, even for a Russian and sometimes that is mistaken with arrogance and sense of superiority. That’s why besides his rink-mates and Christophe Giacometti, he doesn’t really hang out with other skaters. Although is not like he cares that much, Viknot is polite and friendly but not interested in being everybody’s friend.

So he’s not particularly excited like Mila about Katsuki’s arrival, and the expectative of a new toy for her entertainment. He’s just another fellow competitor and now a rink-mate.

Maybe things will be a little less boring with the novelty of a new skater. Anyway, Viktor doesn’t have high expectations.

After practice Viktor goes home, does homework and some of the other trivial things that are part of his routine when he’s off of the ice.

Morning comes too soon and sleep is fighting, clinging to his eyelids, heavy as a rock. Maybe he shouldn’t have stayed up until three in the morning playing videogames, _again._ If Yakov sees his eyebags again he’ll start screaming at him about how high-level athletes can’t be sleep-deprived without affecting their performance.

Fortunately, with the right products and skin-care routine, he can create the illusion of getting his full ten hours of sleep.

Viktor is really proud of himself for this.

 

 

 

When Viktor arrives at the rink, twenty minutes late —because his favorite coffee shop was busier than usual— and with a coffee cup in hand, he tries to be as stealthy as possible but it’s of no use.

“Come here, Vitya!” screams Yakov from somewhere in the rink, he finds him leaning over the railing of the rink, talking to someone but Viktor can’t tell who, Yakov is blocking the person with his body. When Yakov straightens up again Viktor sees him.

Yuuri Katsuki, pale and with his cheeks and ears flushed. Saint Petersburg’s mornings are cold but Viktor has had all his life for his body to acclimatize.

Viktor walks towards Yakov and Katsuki and comes to stand next to his coach. No one is talking, so Viktor takes a sip of his coffee.

He looks from Katsuki to Yakov, Yakov from Viktor to Katsuki and Katsuki looks to the ice under his skates.

“Then, Yuuri this is Vitya and Vitya this is Yuuri. As you know, he's my new student and will train with us since today. Now say hi and let's end with formalities.”

“Nice to meet you, I'm Viktor.” Viktor offers his hand and name. The other boy doesn't look him in the eye when they shake hands, instead staring at some point over Victor's head.

“Yuuri.” It's his simple and murmured answer.

“Okay, now you that you met, get on the ice.” Yakov grumbles and dismisses them with a hand.

He just nods at Viktor and skates towards the other side of the rink, where Yuri is, already looking ready to stab someone with his skates blades.

Viktor is leaving but not without Yakov’s daily reprimand. “Don't think I didn't notice you got here late. Next time you'll be cleaning the locker room.”

“It won't happen again.” assures him Viktor with a charming smile. He finishes his coffee and throws the empty cup away to the closest bin before taking off his skate guards and handing them to Yakov if he's still calling him _Vitya_ then he's not really mad.

 

 

 

He watches Katsuki for a while, the boy is focusing on practicing his jumps. His landings are wobbly and he’s definitely going to have some good bruises tomorrow after hitting the ice a couple of times.

Viktor sighs and concentrates again on his choreography. Doesn’t look like anything interesting is happening anytime soon.


	2. Detroit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Yuuri got to Russia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short too because I had to cut it for reasons. I had to restrain from posting it before so I've decided to post the chapters as soon as I finish them because 'beta who?'

Yuuri’s life hasn’t been exactly what you would call ‘remarkable’. However, there are a few moments of his life that Yuuri thinks are worth to mention.

Between these moments are; when he finally mastered the _arabesque_ without losing his balance, the time Mari took him to the local cinema with her first paycheck from her summer job, or when he watched Viktor Nikiforov skate for the first time. And of course, when Yakov Feltsman offered him to be his coach.

 

Yuuri is sixteen and he just made his debut in the senior division. He has never been an outstanding skater but he has won some medals and this year he is good enough to represent his country.

For divine intervention, a fluke, hard work or maybe a combination of the three, he makes it to the Grand Prix Final.

Everything is okay or stable, at least. Until it’s not.

There are rumors, interviews, articles about the actual Junior champion, Yuuri Katsuki and his ascension to the senior division. There are expectations and he tries to keep up with them.

Here is the thing, Yuuri is not great with jumps. Yes, he’s good with the presentation, everybody says it; Celestino, Phichit, even the judges but you can’t win gold at a senior competition only with a good step sequence.

Yuuri’s gold at the Junior Grand Prix Final was more a question of luck and opportunity than actual talent. He simply screwed less than the others. His performance was okay, one of his landings almost perfect but Yuuri is sure that if Michele Crispino hadn’t fallen in one of his jumps and overrotated another he would have taken gold easily, the fact that the boy got silver despite his mistakes was proof of his abilities.

So Yuuri trains hard, harder than he’s ever trained before. He wants to make his family proud of him, his friends, his coach, his country but mostly, he wants to make himself proud.

He’ll prove everyone that he’s a competitor to watch out for, not a dime a dozen skater. Yuuri is focused and there is anything he can’t do when he sets his mind on it.

Yuuri places fifth at the Grand Prix Final.

He’s angry, anxious, utterly disappointed on himself and all he wants to do is cry. He’s not sure how he makes it through the medal ceremony, not even being able to watch Viktor up close makes him feel better.

Still, he stays because owes some respect to his fellow competitors and Yuuri is a lot of things but a bad loser is not one them.

After the fiasco at the Grand Prix, the last thing Yuuri wants to hear about is skating, which is kind of ironic since he keeps sneaking in the rink after Phichit and Celestino leave to skate for hours and hours until his body is too exhausted to continue.

It’s not a secret, not really. It’s hard to have any when Phichit is his rink-mate as well as his roommate. Phichit nor Celestino have called him out on it, even when the nationals are so close.

They are giving him time and space and Yuuri appreciates it more than they can imagine. He knows he can’t take more than a couple of days, though. If he wants to make things right he has to win nationals. No more falling apart on the ice. Although, of course, that’s easier said than done.

It’s the same day Yuuri returns to training. Yuuri is going through his free program for the third time when Celestino receives _the_ call.

Celestino leaves to his office, leaving both, Phichit and Yuuri confused. His coach comes back about twenty minutes later, Yuuri knows this because he has had time enough to run through his free program five more times. He says nothing about the call so Phichit and Yuuri forget about it.

After practice, Celestino asks him to stay, he has ‘something to discuss with Yuuri.’  Yuuri automatically thinks they will talk about his days of absence. Celestino starts to tell Yuuri about how much he appreciates him and how much potential he sees on him. It’s strange, Celestino never beats around the bush and can only be an explanation for that; he wants to say goodbye to Yuuri. He doesn’t blame him, he’s been too patient with Yuuri and he got tired of not getting results. now he wants to move on and focus on a skater with future. _It’s okay, it’s okay_ , he repeats in his head.

“Yakov Feltsman called me. He wants to coach you.”

_Wait, what?_

“Wait, what?” it’s all Yuuri is able to say.

“Yakov Feltsman, Viktor Nikiforov’s coach.” he clarifies as if Yuuri didn’t know who is Yakov Feltsman or who he coaches. “He called and told me he has been watching you for a while. He thinks that you have potential.”

“But… he’s in Russia and you are here, in Detroit.” Yuuri’s brain is still unable to make the connection. Celestino’s words make no sense. Maybe Yuuri doesn’t understand English as well as he thinks or Celestino misunderstood Feltsman. There are a lot of possibilities and none of them include what Celestino is saying to be the truth.

“I know, Yuuri, you would have to move to Saint Petersburg. Also, the offer includes a complete scholarship so you don’t have to worry about that either.”

Celestino stares at him and tries again.

“Yuuri, I will talk to you straight. This is a huge opportunity, Yakov is one of the best coaches out in the world. I know my limits as a coach and I do think that for this phase of your career Yakov is the best option. You know, Yakov doesn’t just take anyone under his wing, I’ve heard of quite a few skaters he refused to coach.”

Great, that doesn’t add some pressure, at all.

“You think about it and talk with your family. We are still doing nationals together, whatever you decide.” Yuuri nods and leaves Celestino’s notice.

He doesn’t sleep that night.

“That’s great! When are you leaving?” Phichit asks him after he tells him about his conversation with Celestino —if you can call it that, Yuuri only stuttered once and that was all his contribution—, he just stays quiet, trying not to fidget too much.  “C’mon Yuuri! Why are you even doubting it? You would train with Viktor!”

Yuuri bites his lip. Yes, he has thought about it.

“But I don’t speak Russian!”

Phichit deadpans. “Seriously, what's stopping you? You can learn Russian, you know already the basics.” he shrugs and Yuuri flushes, remembering that period in which he was such a Viktor fanboy that he obsessed about everything related to Russia and its culture.

“Well… yes but that’s not enough to live there.”

His friend sighs.

“All I hear are excuses. You know your family would support you and you would actually be closer to them. What’s there to think? It’s like a dream come true.”

Yes, it is but nothing is more terrifying than the possibility of a dream come true.


	3. Saint Petersburg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Yuris, one apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again!  
> Thank you for your comments, I'll try to answer them soon.  
> Find me on Tumblr as @janusa.

 This is a dream come true, Yuuri repeats to himself.

_Or a nightmare._

Since the moment his plane lands in Saint Petersburg, Yuuri is only sure of two things; one, he’s no longer in Detroit, and two, this isn’t Hasetsu either.

As stupid as this may sound, it resumes to one fact: Yuuri is once again far away from home.

Yakov Feltsman is already waiting for him when he makes it out of the airport. There is a brief greeting and then Yuuri is sitting in the copilot seat with Mr. Feltsman driving them to god-knows-where.

Yuuri doesn't need to ask because Mr. Feltsman —your coach, he tries to remember himself— clarifies it.

“I'm driving you to where you'll be staying. If you don't like it you can look for something else later, but it's close to the rink and school, besides, you won't get anything cheaper.”

Yuuri nods and mutters a quiet _“yes”_ when he's not sure of having been heard.

They stop in front of a building that could use a good layer of paint but besides that, it doesn't look really old. He gets his luggage out of the car with Mr. Feltsman help, he brought just two big suitcases, Yuuri considered shipping his furniture but it would have been more expensive than buying new.

It’s not until they are in the elevator that Mr. Feltsman speaks again. “They are already waiting for you. Yura’s English is good enough but his grandparent only understands a little.”

Yuuri looks at him startled, “What do you mean?”

“You’re going to live with Yuri Plisetsky.”

“And… does he know it?” Mr. Feltsman gives him a look that Yuuri interprets as _are you an idiot?_ He doesn’t answer, just steps out of the elevator that Yuuri didn’t notice had stopped.

They walk down the corridor and come to halt in front of a door with the number _9_. Mr. Feltsman knocks the door three times before it is opened. A small and blond teenager is in front of then, Yuuri has never seen a deeper frown.

The Russian Yuri, the junior that had made his debut that year and won gold in his first year. Yuri Plisetsky, the one who screamed at him in a public bathroom and pretty much demanded him to quit skating.

Great. This just gets better and better.

Yuri says something fast and half growling, Yuuri doesn’t get a thing but it didn’t sound happy or kind. An old man appears behind him, the grandpa, his mind supplies now that has decided to work again. He invites them in and exchanges some words with Mr. Feltsman. Yuuri can understand something at least this time; a kind of ‘it’s nice to see you again’, a thank you for taking Yuuri in and that the man is called Nikolai.

Nikolai turns and looks Yuuri up and down, like evaluating him. Yuuri introduces himself in what must be the most awful Russian in history. He just hopes they don’t hate him —more in Yuri’s case— for slaughtering their language.

Nikolai arches an eyebrow. “Do you speak Russian?”

“Just a little, almost nothing.” he answers, the words feeling forced in his tongue.

“Then you’ll have to learn more.”

Yuuri nods because what could he say.

“If you don’t speak Russian good, don’t speak Russian!” Yuri yells at him and points him with an angry finger.

“Speak Russian well.” he blurts out.

“WHAT?”

“... or good Russian…” Yuuri stutters and he's almost sure that he can pinpoint the moment when Yuri Plisetsky goes from angry to murderous. _Right, go ahead and correct the kid that already hates you and that you’re going to live with indefinitely._

Nikolai laughs and says something like. ‘Maybe you can learn from each other.’

He supposes he can't be that wrong when Yuri huffs and mutters something under his breath. He's probably damning the moment Yuuri had crossed his threshold.

Mr. Feltsman and Nikolai chat a little bit more but soon enough he's saying his goodbyes.

But now Nikolai is looking at him and apparently, Yuuri has been asked something.

“He's asking if you're hungry, you moron.”

“ _Net, spasibo_.” Yuuri bows slightly, the only thing he needs right now is being alone. Somehow Yuri reads his mind (he'll have to ask Yuri if he has a nickname because them his mind is getting more confused than usual) because he takes one of his suitcases and drags him beside him in the direction to one of the doors in the apartment.

“This is your room. Now go to sleep, I won’t wake up your ass for practice.” Yuri throws his suitcase inside and slams the door shut as soon as Yuuri is inside of the bedroom.

The bedroom is drab, there is a closet, a night table with a lamp, a desk with a chair and a bed with generic white sheets but Yuuri doesn’t need more. He just unpacks the necessary for that night and tomorrow’s practice. He can unpack the rest later.

Yuuri changes slowly into his pajamas and once in bed he thinks he won’t be able to get any sleep that night. underestimates how tired he is. Almost as soon as he touches the bed the jetlag hits him.

It’s a dreamless sleep, his brain too tired to machinate all the possibilities in which how tomorrow could go wrong. Well, he still will have the morning for that.

 

 

His alarm should have gone off because he’s woken up with his face hitting the cold floor, plus unintelligible screams of a creaking voice.

“We are late, you idiot!”

“I thought you weren’t waking up my ‘ass’.” it’s the first thing that leaves Yuuri’s mouth, his senses and everything in him pretty much numb to worry about it. He’s not a morning person and never will.

Yuri inflates his cheeks with air and his face is a little red. “Yakov will come for me if you are not there, now hurry up.”

 

Yuuri is still half sleep when Yuri throws an apple to his face on their way to the rink.

“If you pass out mid-practice is going to be a pain in the ass.”

Yuuri nods, a smile is dancing on the corners of his mouth but he contains it.

 

The rink is empty except by Yakov when they arrive. It doesn’t take long for the others to arrive, a girl with red hair that Yuuri recognizes as Mila Babicheva, the silver medallist of last year’s Grand Prix.

She’s amiable and enthusiastic, hugs him while she introduces herself and Yuuri is confused. He has heard Russians are stone cold and so far it has been the opposite. The thought is only reinforced when another guy arrives, he’s older than Yuuri and as well in the senior division but he can’t bring himself to remember his name, only his dramatic and theatrical performances.

The guy’s name is Georgi Popovich and (apparently) he’s as dramatic in his daily life as he is on the ice but he’s also considerate, Yuuri notices when he starts to ramble about a fight he had with his girlfriend in English. Georgi’s accent is almost as marked as Mr. Feltsman if Yuuri hadn’t lived for two years in Detroit it would be way harder for him to understand.

There is someone missing, the person Yuuri has been more excited and terrified to meet but he doesn’t dare to ask.

They start with the usual warmup and stretching exercises. There are a few of exercises that Yuuri is not used to do but follows the others lead. Once they finish they put on their skates and get onto the ice. Mr. Feltsman calls him.

Yuuri skates towards the rink ward where Mr. Feltsman is leaned. “Celestino has already informed me of your training regimen and I have some adjustments to make but today I want you to focus on your jumps. You landed sixty-five percent of your jumps last season and not all of them were clean...”  

Yuuri knows his jumps are his weakness, everybody knows it. It’s understandable that Mr. Feltsman would ask him to practice them but it’s his first day of practice and _Yuuri_ would prefer not to embarrass himself in front of all his new rink-mates, specially—

“Vitya!” Yuuri comes back to reality with what feels like an emotional bucket of cold water. He doesn’t need to turn his head to know who Mr. Feltsman is talking to but he does.

Yuuri has never lived in a place as cold as Saint Petersburg. He’s certainly feeling it, or not because his face is numb and his cheeks are probably red, making him look younger and naive —or that’s what Minako used to tell him, at least.  

Competing in the same ice as Viktor Nikiforov at last year’s Grand Prix didn’t prepare him for the shock that is having him standing in front of him.

Yuuri forgets the coldness for a moment and the red in his cheeks is not only cause of the weather anymore.

Yuuri is petrified and doesn't know how to react. Logically, he knew that they would meet, even interact at some point but after hundreds of simulations in his mind, he's not ready for this. Yuuri can feel eyes over him.

“Then, Yuuri this is Vitya and Vitya this is Yuuri. As you know, he's my new student and will train with us since today. Now say hi and let's end with formalities.”

Viktor introduces as if Yuuri didn’t know his entire online biography and offers his hand to shake. Yuuri hopes his hands aren’t sweaty or trembling when he shakes Viktor’s. He quietly mutters his name, too busy trying to avoid Viktor’s gaze.

Yuuri always dreamed of seeing for himself if Viktor’s eyes were as blue as they looked on tv and the posters or if it was just a product of the lighting and the cameras but right now he can’t even breathe in his direction.

“Okay, now you that you met, get on the ice.” Yuuri just gives him a nod and skates away as fast as his tremulous legs allow him.

Yuuri tries to concentrate, he really does. However, things don’t always go as you expect and he knows that very well. The world likes to remind him that as if he were going to forget. It’s stupid —as if Yuuri could ever forget it.

His legs weigh a ton of plumb, his arms are limp and it’s like he suddenly has gotten Mari’s balance —which doesn’t exist— he’s failing practically all of his jumps. Yuuri can feel eyes on him; gauging, measuring. Determining if he’s worthy of being there, among the best of the best.

Yuuri doesn’t even dare to look in Viktor’s direction. His fantasies of someday meeting his idol, his dreams of skating in the same ice as him are slowly but steadily becoming into nightmares.

This time is different than the Grand Prix where better competitors than him had given him a certain amount of anonymity. He was there but just as a participant, no one took him as a serious threat. And why would they when Yuuri doesn’t consider himself a threat?

Yuuri falls again, he lessens the impact with his forearms. For some wicked reason, he decides to look up at that moment, just to find a pair of ice blue eyes fixed on him.

Yuuri just met his idol and all he wants to is to never see him again.

Suddenly, there is a not so metaphorical weight on his back. Then there is the pain, physical pain.

“Get up, you idiot.” Yuri snarls, kicking his flank. Yuuri briefly wonders if the Russian is purposely avoiding his skate blades or if he’s being lucky about this. “You’re embarrassing us both.”

Green fills his vision, he will start calling the green of Yuri’s eyes ‘furious green’ because that seems to be a constant on the boy, or that’s what Yuuri gathered from the day he’s spent with him and their encounter in that bathroom. Yuuri would even find it endearing, like Minako’s kitten that always wanted to fight every living being and plant.

“How am I embarrassing us both?” asks Yuuri, getting up from the ice.

“You’re living in my house now, _and_ I can’t have someone with my name being this pathetic.”

Yuri turns to leave not without pretty much spitting in his way. “And try to be less of a loser.”

The words hit a chord and he tries to send the thought to the back of his mind. Yuuri is insecure but that doesn't mean he wants everybody to know it, much less in his first official day in Russia surrounded for some of the best skaters in the world.

 

The best moment of the practice is when it finishes. He quietly says goodbye to Mr. Feltsman and avoids visual contact with everybody in his way to the locker room and then in it.

Yuuri doesn’t look up until they enter the building. Plisetsky has made a good work by ignoring him all the way from the rink to the apartment.

At least until they cross the apartment's threshold. "Stop sulking. I know grandpa and he’ll worry if he sees you like this.”

“I’m not sulking.” murmurs Yuuri.

He had a crappy day. He hadn’t felt this tense and overall like a fraud since the posterior days to the Grand Prix, which also had been here, in Saint Petersburg. Maybe there is a pattern in that and it’s not exactly related to the place.

“Also we have to choose a new name for you. We can’t have two Yuris.”

“You can just call me Katsuki.”

“That’s not fun.” Yuri stares at him and narrows his eyes. “Mmm… pig, piggy? You nose kinda looks like a pig nose.

Yuuri automatically covers his nose with both hands and flushes. “You also have fat and red cheeks and your Katsudon has pork in it so it fits.”

Yuuri looks at the boy, confused and surprised. Yuri crosses his arms over his chest in a defensive posture. “What?”

“How do you know Katsudon is my favorite food?”

Yuri goes all read if this was an anime there would be steam coming out of his ears.

“Go sleep already, maybe that way you won’t suck tomorrow!”

Yuuri chuckles and it gains him a cushion on the face. “Shut up, you fuck!”

He’s starting to get what a contradiction Yuri Plisetsky is, and it actually makes him feel a little better.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was basically a transition chapter.  
> There will be more Viktor next chapter, I swear. And more POVs, I'm not going to write like the same scene from everybody's POV but their first meeting seemed important enough.
> 
> Next chapter: Never meet your heroes? + High School (yes, somehow I got HS drama shit in this. Not really drama but still)


End file.
